


Time Lord Holiday

by twelfth_doctor



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Crack, Crossover Pairings, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelfth_doctor/pseuds/twelfth_doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Jack are on a vacation and pay a visit to the fictional world of Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Lord Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> [Warnings: CRACK. Seriously, lower your expectations now. This is mad. And probably terrible. Run while you still can. And it's un-beta'd. And written in American English because I couldn't be bothered. Sorry.]
> 
> The following takes place between “Voyage of the Damned” and “Partners in Crime” in the Doctor’s timeline, in between seasons one and two of Torchwood for Jack, and in that lovely post-Poolgate time when Sherlock and John’s lives are relatively normal.
> 
> Originally posted on my lj, but I figured it would reach a wider audience here. ;)

“Doctor, you can’t be serious!”

He just gazes back at his impossible companion and grinned mischievously.

“How is it that I didn’t know this?!” Jack says in a wounded, accusatory tone.

“Now, Captain. What do I always say? The less you understand about time travel, teleportation, and my TARDIS, the better. You are a dangerous…” the Doctor’s voice catches as he locks eyes with Jack. “Man.”

The Doctor had gone off women after the incident on the Titanic. He’d never had the best of track records with the ladies, but losing Astrid was the last straw. After parting ways with the tour guide, the Doctor had flown the TARDIS to a pub. Five or six pints of bitter in, he pulled out a mobile to discover he had very few people in the universe who would take his call. Jack, he’d thought. And what happened next was so much more than a booty call. The Doctor had whisked the Captain away on a months-long vacation where, rather shockingly, no emergencies or temporal anomalies managed to interrupt their fun. And he swore to have Jack back home before the Torchwood team could miss him this time.

“Doctor?”

“Hmm? Sorry. Lost in the moment. What was I saying? Or, what were you saying? …Were we talking?”

Jack chuckles. “You were trying to tell me that the TARDIS could travel into fictional realities. And I insisted that you were full of it. I mean, it can’t be possible, can it?’

“My dearest Captain, you can’t be possible, yet here you are.”

“Good point,” Jack conceded.

“Yeah. You’re just…impossible!”

Jack turns away. “I have no business being immortal, I know. You needn’t rub it in all the time.” The Doctor closes the gap between them in two easy strides and uses those surprisingly powerful hands to spin his companion back around.

“That wasn’t what I meant.” The Doctor pulls Jack into an embrace and kisses him deeply, trying to convey all of his affection with the simple act.

He pulls back enough to say, “You’re impossibly beautiful and alive and with me all at the same time. I haven’t been this happy in hundreds of years.” They kiss again. “I want to show my appreciation for you being such a fantastic shag by taking you somewhere really special.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Anywhere! Anywhere you like! Don’t you have a favorite story? Or book? Character? Television show?” The Doctor is swimming around in impatient circles while Jack prowls the bookcases looking for inspiration.

“You said you’d only do this for me once, so I want to get it just right! Give me a minute to figure some things out.” Jack walks deeper into the library.  
“It’s not really something we should do at all. We could seriously alter established storylines and events! The universe could collapse!”

“Huh?” Jack calls from deep within the 19th century Earth fiction section.

“Nevermind. Kidding.” Sort of, he thinks to himself. The Doctor does a few laps to pass the time.

“Doctor?” Jack emerges from the stacks holding a small red book.

“Finally! What have you got there?”

“You said the TARDIS could go into any reality from any work of fiction?” Jack stops at the edge of the pool.

“Yep. Well…nah. Yep. Sure. The writer or whoever plants the seed and the readers or viewers’ imaginations and willing suspension of disbelief sort of makes it real… Real enough for the TARDIS to find it, anyway. In the idea of infinitesimal alternate universes for every decision a person makes, there should also be one where a work of fiction is true.” He sees the look on Jack’s face. “Am I explaining this badly again?”

“Well… It’s just… Can it be a specific adaptation of a story? You mentioned television…?”

“Anything, I believe I said. This old ship has tricks up her sleeve yet.”

Jack grins. He shifts his grip on the book and the Doctor can finally see the title. A Study in Scarlet.

“Holmes?”

“Yeah! Well, not this, exactly, but I don’t know if you’d know it—“

“Sherlock. With the one with the funny name and that bloke off The Office?”

“…Wow. You are some kind of mind reader.” Jack smiles, puts down the book, and starts taking off his boots.

“Nah. I just know you and your appreciation of homoerotic subtext. And text. And—“

Jack jumps in the pool.

The Doctor pouts. “Well, that’s no fun. You’ve still got clothes on.” He dives down after his love, who, he sees, has already managed to shed his shirt under the water.

This is what we do, the Doctor thinks. On the eve of a journey, we christen different bits of the TARDIS.

He wonders briefly where the TARDIS is even parked as he and Jack both emerge gasping for air. …Amarantos 3? …Hammersmith? Then, as Jack pulls him into the ever-so-slightly dangerous, but oh-so-worth-it underwater kiss, he decides it doesn’t matter.

He’s in the pool in his library with Captain Jack Harkness, and that’s what’s important.

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Captain Jack Harkness, damn glad to meet you,” Jack reaches out and takes Sherlock’s hand in both of his own. “I’m a big fan of your work.”

Sherlock looks Jack up and down suspiciously. “Well, Mr. Harkness, what is it that you think you’re a captain of?”

“That’s not terribly polite, Sherlock.” John gives him a meaningful nudge and extends a hand towards the very outgoing stranger. “John Watson, nice to meet you.”

Jack grins as he shakes Watson’s hand. “I’ve been in the military, had a few of my own vessels, but that’s neither here nor there. Please call me—”

“Jack!”

Jack’s smile fades as rapid footsteps approach them. The Doctor is sprinting up Baker Street.

“Ah. Gentlemen, could you do me a favor and try to ignore what’s about to happen?”

John’s interest is piqued. “What--?”

The Doctor skids to a stop in the middle of the group, panting. He realizes that he must look mental, so he puts on a smile for John and Sherlock, which doesn’t much help their perception of him. “Oh, hi. Hello. Sorry, chaps. Um, could you just excuse us for a moment? Cheers.”

The Doctor grabs Jack and steers him a couple of yards away, slipping his arm around the man’s waist as he goes. John and Sherlock share an almost imperceptible smile.

The Doctor begins to reprimand Jack in a harsh whisper, “Just what d’you think you’re doing? You can’t just slip out of the TARDIS and go to their flat! We talked about this. We’re here as a special treat to observe, not to take part. Besides, I’m not even sure where we are in their timeline.”

“Well, let’s ask them!” And with that, Jack escapes his grip and returns to the men who have been straining to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Hi, again.”

“Your accent. It sounds American, but I can’t quite place it,” Sherlock muses.

“Ah, well—“

The Doctor appears among them again and interjects, “Well, that’s not really important. It’s a frightfully long story, I’m afraid. You must be far too busy to hear it.”

“Yes, well, we were just leaving before you lot arrived,” John admits.

“Of course you were, of course you were. It was lovely to see you, Dr. Watson. You have a nice day.” The Doctor attempts to wave him away while pushing Jack back in the direction of the blue police box.

“Hang on.”

“Oh? What? What was it? We have to be going. Away. Too. This way. Yes?”

“How did you know my name?” John asked. Sherlock hadn’t moved a muscle in ages and seemed very interested in the Doctor’s explanation.

“Did I know your name? Umm—news! You must have been on the news recently! You’re a perfectly newsworthy fellow; you should be a newsreader! Bye, now.”

John looks like he’s about to object when Sherlock steps forward. “John has indeed not been on the news recently. Would you care to try that again?”

Jack sees that the Doctor is panicking, because he’s gone from talking a mile a minute to falling suddenly silent. He fakes a cough and says, “Blog!”

“Eh?” It takes the Doctor a moment to process. “Oh! Right! Blog! I—we read your blog, Dr. Watson. We read your blog, and we follow your website, Sherlock. They’re both brilliant. That’s how we got to be fans of you gentlemen. And my friend Jack, here, apologizes for his intrusion. We’ll be going now. Again, desperately sorry.”

“But, Doctor—,“ Jack tries to delay their departure, and it’s effective.

“Doctor?” asks John.

He looks back and forth between Jack and Watson.

“Doctor…?” John pushes.

“Oh. Smith. John Smith.”

“Now, that’s not your real name is it, Doctor?” Sherlock chimes in.

That is a really irritating trait, he thinks. “…No. But you can just call me the Doctor.”

“Right. What is it you’re a doctor of, exactly?”

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that…” The Doctor hesitates under Sherlock’s calculating stare. “…Everything.”

“Now, that is fascinating.” Sherlock eyes the Doctor with redoubled interest. “You weren’t lying then, and how can that be?”

Two of the cleverest men in the universe have a small staring contest while Jack looks on trying to contain his amusement. John can barely contain his annoyance—or is it jealousy?

“Yes,” John says suddenly, and at an above average volume. “Well. That’s ridiculous, and, as I’ve said, we were just leaving. We have a case to attend to.” He reaches out to take Sherlock’s elbow.

“Oh, but surely, John, a doctor of everything will be more than capable of assisting us. You should come along, Doctor. And you,” Sherlock turns to address Jack. “What do you do?”

“Uh…” Jack hesitates, not knowing how to answer.

“He is brilliant.”

“And I’m sure you are completely impartial on the matter, eh, Doctor?”

“Sherlock…” John halfheartedly tries to stop him from being rude.

“Well, we should get going,” the Doctor starts backing away.

“Listen to me very carefully, Doctor and Captain. I don’t trust you. In fact, I have a few quite good reasons to be suspicious of you. The last person who claimed to be a fan of mine financed a serial killer and is still at large. So I’ll ask you to stay very nearby and not cause trouble until I can sort you out.”

Jack grins at the prospect, but the Doctor’s visage is weighed down by the endless possibilities for catastrophe.

John indiscreetly pulls Sherlock aside. “Are you sure about this?” he whispers. “What if they’re spying on us and they want to investigate your methods and…stuff?”

Sherlock doesn’t whisper his response. “My dear colleague, unless these gentlemen can read thoughts, I think my ‘methods’ are safe.”

Jack shoots the Doctor a meaningful smirk. That particular Time Lord gift has one or two very practical applications in the bedroom. The Doctor gives him a small smile in return, recalling the few times he has looked into his lover’s soul…then his thoughts drift to Reinette, and he quickly tries to change the topic of conversation.

“So! Yes. I guess we’ll tag along. You have every right to be suspicious of us, but you shouldn’t be. Sherlock, I assure you. We can be trusted.”

“Prove it.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

When four grown men share a cab, they cannot help but touch each other. Jack doesn’t mind in the least; he is sitting next to the Doctor and across from Sherlock. The Doctor and John never once make eye contact, and the atmosphere is charged.

Sensing the Doctor’s tension, Jack gestures for him to lean in for a whisper. Shielded by his hand, Jack nibbles gently at the Doctor’s earlobe and kisses his jawbone.

This causes an involuntary giggle to erupt from the Doctor. He tries to cover it by saying, “Yes, that was very funny. Jack was just reminding me of another time we were in London and—uh—a thing happened.”

“Oh, please!” The outburst, surprisingly, comes from John.

“John,” Sherlock tries to calm him by putting a hand on his knee.

It’s ineffective.

“No, could you two possibly be more obvious? And why? Why are you here? Who are you people?”

“John—,“ Sherlock tries again.

“What do you mean you people?” Jack asks, feigning offense, but only just barely.

“Oh, I think you know.” John glares.

Jack is about to retort, but Sherlock calmly holds up a hand. “John. Will you just leave it?”

“Why should I?”

“You can object to their presence all you want; I’m still not sure why they’re here. But,” Sherlock lowers his voice to a reverent whisper, “I get the distinct impression that it would be a very bad idea to anger the Doctor.”

All eyes turn to the Doctor who has been silent and motionless since John’s outburst. The deadly serious look of disdain on his face evolves into a sneer. “You really are clever, aren’t you, Holmes.”

The look of confused panic on John’s face is priceless. There is a long pause during which the Doctor seems to radiate power.

Jack breaks the silence, “I don’t mean to ruin the big moment or anything, but you are so hot right now.”

A tentative chuckle makes its way around the cab.

“Thanks for that, Jack.”

“Anytime, Doc.”

“Don’t ever call me that,” the Doctor replies, deadpan.

Another laugh, this one easier, sounds for a moment, then fades.

“You see? This needn’t be awkward. We’re all inquisitive, clever men. Some of us are doctors. One or two of us might have a slight problem with self-loathing…” The Doctor reaches out for Jack’s hand and entwines their fingers. He gives John a meaningful look. “But can we all just agree that we are four shockingly attractive men?”

“Amen to that.” Three pairs of eyes turn to John. “…Hang on, did I say that out loud?”

And with that, all the tension is broken. Sherlock beams. He wraps his arm around John and plants a kiss firmly on his temple. John flushes a delicate shade of pink, then a deep red as Sherlock’s tongue suddenly finds its way into his mouth.

Sherlock breaks away, breathing heavily but silently. “Couldn’t help myself,” he apologizes.

“N-not at all. That’s—that’s fine.” John grins and looks out of the window, willing his complexion to return to normal.

The remainder of the cab ride is spent in good cheer.

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

The crime scene is ghastly. It is, unfortunately, nothing new to the quartet, though.

Sherlock walks around in deliberate patterns, occasionally bouncing ideas off of John, and declaring things to be obvious. Jack mostly stays out of the way, only pointing out a few clues overlooked by the police. The Doctor absorbs the entire scene. The dichotomy of man, he thinks. Monsters capable of such horror, and men capable of such passion, imagination, and talent. Beautiful, loving men fighting against chaos.

There is nothing supernatural or extraterrestrial about the triple homicide. And why would there be, thinks the Doctor. He and Jack take private solace in the fact that this world isn’t really real, though the distinction has long since begun to fade. Sherlock is genuinely brilliant and gorgeous. John, despite his obvious issues, has a pure soul and is as cute as a freaking button.

The experience of the investigation is draining to all of them, but, with only a slight nudge in the right direction from the Doctor, Sherlock makes short work of it.

After the details of the case are spelled out to police and arrests are made, the four men stand in the street waiting for a cab.

“What happens now?” Jack inquires. The sun has set and a chill is beginning to descend on London.

John replies, “Well, traditionally, I force Sherlock to eat some god damn food before he keels over.” These last words are directed rather pointedly at-er-one of the tall, thin men in suits. “He doesn’t eat while on a case. I keep trying to tell him it’s unhealthy. Such a clever man with such bad habits... Have you seen? He’s plastered his body with nicotine patches!“

At this, both Jack and the Doctor unabashedly raise intrigued eyebrows,

“Will you stop gossiping about me as if I’m not here? I’m bloody starving.”

“See what I mean?”

“John.” Sherlock looks exhausted. All of the adrenaline from the case has drained away, and the nicotine buzz is fading. A Holmes without his game is very different to the one they’d seen so far.

“Right,” John presses on with a business-like tone, “What sort of food would you chaps fancy? A curry? Kebabs? Chinese?”

Jack shrugs.

The Doctor pipes up, “Do you know? It’s been ages since I’ve been to a chip shop. A proper, British chip shop.”

Sherlock tells the cabbie where to go and gives explicit directions about the route, amended to include the Doctor’s request to stop a cashpoint.

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“I might never eat again,” Jack groans. The group decided to walk back rather than take another cab after their meal.

“Now, Jack, don’t you start. It was a lovely place with lovely chips.”

“Yeah, and how many orders did we down?”

The Doctor lets out a small burp. “Good point.”

John giggles. He is walking slightly behind Jack and the Doctor, holding Sherlock’s gloved hand. “Doctor?” he calls. “You said it’d been a long time since you’d been to a chip shop. If you love them so much, then…why?”

“Traveling.”

John pushes, not content with the answer. “Traveling where?”

Jack steps in, “The Doctor and I are on something of a holiday. He just called me up out of the blue and then whisked me away on a tour of so many incredible places.”

“So what brings you to London, really?”

“I live in Cardiff, do I need a better reason?”

“No, but you’ve got one,” Sherlock remarks.

Jack turns around to face them properly, “I genuinely am a fan of you guys. I think you’re brilliant, and I wanted to meet you.”

“Hm.”

“Sherlock?” John can tell when his colleague is holding back an observation.

Sherlock holds up a hand. “Doctor? Do you share the good captain’s motives?”

The group comes to a halt. The Doctor, who had been in front comes back to face his inquisitor. “Well, then. You’ve caught onto us, Mr. Holmes.”

“Obvious, really. I had my suspicions from the start, but he,” Sherlock points to Jack, “is spectacularly transparent.”

“Sorry, but does someone want to catch me up on what’s going on here?”

“John, these gentlemen are here with less-than-honorable intentions.”

“Eh? What—are you saying they’re here to shag you?”

“Oh, no, John. Not me. Us.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

Their jog up the last few blocks back to the flat is only partly to get out of the sudden rainstorm. Dripping with ice-cold water and panting, four men clamber inside the door of 221B.

John is the first to make a move. He grabs Jack by the lapels of his coat and pulls him down into a firm kiss. Before Jack can properly explore John’s mouth, he is released. John climbs up one step, turns back towards the landing, and kisses the Doctor. Sherlock smirks and Jack gapes. When they break apart, both men are more breathless than they were previously. After a moment, John says “Sherlock,” and nods his head towards the stairs.

“Right. Yes. Understanding though she is, I don’t think Mrs. Hudson would approve of homosexual foursomes in her stairway. Shall we, gentlemen?” Sherlock gestures towards the second story landing.

“After you,” says Jack. “I appreciate the view.”

“Come on then, we all need to get out of these wet clothes.” John takes Sherlock by the hand and leads the way, all but sprinting up to the flat.

Jack stops grinning long enough to give the Doctor a quick kiss and whisper “Thank you.” He administers a quick slap on the ass and they thunder up the stairs after their fictional counterparts.

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“You know, Jack? This was a good idea.”

There are exhausted grumbles of agreement from the heap of men sprawled across Sherlock’s far-too-small bed.

“No, I’m serious.” The Doctor props his head up with an arm to better survey his three most recent conquests. “I know your future. I’ve been there. You live such a long life full of so much hardship and heartbreak. I only wish I could make you feel like this forever, but I can’t. I won’t always be there.”

Jack doesn’t look up. “I know.”

“I am so sorry.”

The Doctor’s voice is so sincere and full of sorrow that Jack has to cough to hide a fearful sob. “Doc, you’re kind of ruining my buzz here. Why don’t you rain down your realism on one of these poor bastards?”

“Oi,” John objects, stirring from his post-coital stupor.

“If you insist,” the Doctor’s brain can’t be turned off for long. Despite John’s groan and Jack’s annoyed tutting, he continues, “John Watson. You’ve been in a war…a strange, modern kind of urban-desert warfare with horrible improvised bombs. You’ve seen terrible things. You’re going to keep hanging ‘round with him and you’ll see so much more. Worse, in some ways, yes. But so incredible… One of the greatest partnerships of all time, you are. Legends. Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes. You’re not broken, John. Ignore the shrinks. Just stick with Sherlock and you’ll be so much more than fine. You’ll be glorious together.”

John smiles and grips Sherlock’s hand.

“Doctor.” Hanging partway off the bed, Sherlock speaks to the ceiling, “You know so much. You may even know too much.”

“Yes. And I’ve been trying to cope with that for longer than you can imagine. But, you! Oh, Sherlock. You are so clever. Able to recognize me for what I am—you have no business being able to do that! Your brain always thinking of scenarios and outcomes and permutations and working out solutions for problems that don’t even exist yet. You’re so curious! And your use of deductive reasoning is enough to get a man hot and bothered!”

Jack chuckles, “You’re such a nerd.” He smiles and pats the Doctor’s chest, “It’s a good thing, though.”

“I saw something in your eyes. Something I recognized. John’s got it too, though not as much. Your eyes look much older than the rest of your face. I gather that’s from seeing too much of something really dreadful, like a war. And your eyes convey such profound sadness like you’ve endured a hundred years of howling loneliness, but they also hint at a powerful rage simmering just below the surface…”

John lifts his head curiously, “You got all that from his eyes?” He looks at the Doctor, shrugs, and lies back down.

“I know, it’s weird because I’m not spectacular at the whole human emotions thing,” Sherlock admits, “But it’s just sort of…obvious. It would be unwise to tempt the wrath of the Doctor of Everything.”

“Oh, here we go again. In Sherlock World, people can have archenemies and wraths. He’s just talking bollocks.”

“John. You’re a doctor. Have you got a stethoscope in the flat somewhere?”

“Yeah.” John begrudgingly pulls on a pair of boxers (which may or may not belong to him) and walks down the hall.

“Are you sure about this?” Jack’s face reflects genuine concern. “Doesn’t this go against one of your rules?”

“You honestly don’t trust these guys yet? Anyway, it’s just a bit of fun.”

Sherlock observes the two men arguing, intrigued.

“Trust isn’t the issue here,” Jack lowers his voice, “Wasn’t there an issue with dimensional collapse or complete destruction of plot?”

The Doctor shakes his head, “Nah.”

“What?”

The Doctor just grins as John returns with the stethoscope. He wraps himself in the discarded duvet and approaches the bed. “S’cold in the flat, Sherlock. Is Mrs. Hudson going to turn on the heat soon?”

“Don’t know. Utilities are boring.”

“Right. What am I meant to do with this, Doctor?”

“…You’re a doctor, too, John. You should know. Heartbeat. Mine. Tell me about it.”

The Doctor slides over a bit to make room for John to sit on the edge of the bed.

John sits down and leans over the naked man whose hair has somehow become even more glorious. “Sorry if this is a bit cold,” he warns.

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“I can’t believe we shagged an alien!” John says for the fourth time after the Doctor and Jack have left.

“I think you can, John.” Sherlock gets up from the sofa and stretches. “Especially when one considers the fact that we did him three additional times after you discovered he had two hearts.”

“Well, yeah. But, still! It’s so weird.”

“You’ll notice I’m not complaining at all.”

“Yeah, well, ’cause it was brilliant. And—no! Sherlock, you weren’t!”

“I can’t help but gather data all the time, John.” He smirks.

“What possible use is there to studying an alien’s sexuality?”

“You never know what the future might hold, John.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

Jack and the Doctor walk back to the TARDIS hand-in-hand, recounting and giggling over the previous night’s exploits. When they reach the blue box, the Doctor opens it and asks, “Where to next, Captain?”

“Honestly? I’m starting to miss Ianto.”

“Oh,” the Doctor says, failing to hide his disappointment. “No, that’s all good. Good, good, good, good, good, good. You ought to spend more time with that boy.”

“Wait, have you even met him?”

“Not in the strictest sense of, you know, actually meeting him personally, no. But you mentioned him in your sleep once or twice, and I can tell when your mind is elsewhere… You’re thinking of someone.”

“I really talk in my sleep?”

“Might do.” The Doctor goes to the control panel and throws a lever with a grin.

“I can stay for a while longer if you like. It was just a stupid suggestion.”

“No, not stupid. Never stupid.” The Doctor grabs Jack and pulls him into a hug. “I’m taking you home. You’re going to be with your team and you and Ianto will take good care of each other. Live each day like it’s your last, even when you know it isn’t, Jack Harkness. It’s a very good policy.”

“Just promise me you’ll follow it, too.” Jack meets the Doctor’s eyes and kisses him sweetly.

“If I forget, I always know where to find you. You will always be my reminder of what it means to live, my beautiful Captain fixed in time and space. My human holiday.”


End file.
